Poor little Gracie was inconsolable. We'd gotten into something of a routine over the past few weeks - her oldest brother Patrick delivering her to us so she could provide us with dinner, me with answers to my advanced calculus homework, and my beautiful mom and me with entertainment.
I lounged on my bed, watching as Gracie did her hair and makeup in front of my vanity. Her hands trembled slightly as she applied mascara, clearly still nervous about the transformation process.
"You're getting better at this, you know," I purred, my voice dripping with honeyed approval. "Soon you won't need my help at all."
Gracie beamed at the compliment, her freckled cheeks flushing pink. "Really? You think so?"
I nodded, sliding off the bed and sauntering over to my closet. "Absolutely. Now, let's see what outfit we should put you in today..."